Riddle by the Pool

The **pool** glowed that weird electric blue from underwater lights, and somewhere nearby a speaker thumped bass that vibrated in my chest. Summer before sophomore year, and Maya's party was basically a social minefield I wasn't ready to navigate.

I sat on the edge, feet in the water, watching Jake—the varsity **baseball** star, obviously—laugh with his friends like he owned everything. My cousin Lin appeared beside me, suddenly all intense energy. "Okay, don't freak out, but my aunt taught me this **palm** reading thing and I need to practice on someone real."

"Hard pass," I said, pulling my hand away like she'd suggested something illegal.

"Come ON! I promise it's not weird—you just have one weird line and I literally can't tell what it means yet—"

Before I could escape, Jake materialized, dripping pool water, somehow more annoyingly perfect up close. "What's this?"

"Palm reading! Want yours done?" Lin grabbed his hand before he could answer. "Oh wow, you've got like, major success energy—"

Jake laughed, but I caught something flicker across his face. Actually nervous? That's when I noticed: his hands were shaking. The guy everyone basically worshipped was legit stressed about something.

"Hey," I found myself saying. "You good?"

He stared at me like I'd grown a second head, then his shoulders dropped. "Honestly? No. Sectionals are this week and everyone expects me to carry the team and it's this huge **bear** of pressure I'm not ready for."

"That sucks," I said, because what else do you say?

But Lin—bless her chaotic energy—snapped into something else entirely. "Okay, new plan. This party's weirdly low-energy, so we're doing **sphinx** riddles. Answer wrong, you do something embarrassing. Answer right, you pick the next victim."

Jake groaned. "You're kidding."

"What walks on four legs in the morning, two legs at noon, and three legs in the evening?" Lin demanded, dead serious.

"That's so cliché," Jake started, then paused. "Wait—humans. Babies crawl, adults walk, old people use canes."

"CORRECT," Lin announced unnecessarily loud. "Your turn to pick someone."

Jake looked at me, really looked at me, and something clicked. "Truth or dare? But, like, actually. None of that 'I dare you to jump in the pool' coward stuff."

"Truth," I said without thinking.

"What's something nobody expects about you?"

The words tumbled out before I could overthink them. "I'm terrified everyone will figure out I have no idea what I'm doing. Ever."

Jake's face softened into something genuine. "Yeah. Me too."

We sat there as the party swirled around us—two people who'd been staring at each other from across completely different worlds, both absolutely faking it.

"Wanna get food?" he asked.

"God, yes."

Later, Lin would claim she orchestrated the whole thing. Maybe she did. But that night, diving into the deep end with Jake laughing beside me, I finally understood: growing up wasn't about having all the answers. It was about finding people who didn't mind that you didn't.